


Midnight Messages

by BrokeTheGames



Series: Anon and Stolas: Idiots of a Feather [1]
Category: Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Multi, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:20:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29687316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokeTheGames/pseuds/BrokeTheGames
Summary: Who knew that dick pics would be the best gateway for heart-to-hearts?
Relationships: Stolas Goetia/Reader
Series: Anon and Stolas: Idiots of a Feather [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181657
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Midnight Messages

The white tile on the ceiling above your pillow has one-thousand, six hundred and seventeen black specks on it. You know this, because instead of being asleep, you’re laying on your bed wide awake.

Wasting time by staring at ceiling tiles.

Fuck, you wish you could sleep.

There’s no real reason WHY you can’t sleep, either; the mental checklist in your head over the events of the day offering no answers.

It was a Friday, and work was slow and easy to deal with, so it wasn’t residual stress. You had managed to score half-off pizza, which had been higher quality than normal, so it certainly wasn’t stomach issues. You’re used to the fan of your computer, barely audible white noise from the corner of your room; especially compared to the distant sound of the old train-line off somewhere beyond the trees.

You give a huff, turning onto your side. A poster for an old movie hangs on your wall, the shadowed face of an actor staring down at you with a look of… something. Perhaps pity, considering you’re wasting your time worrying about some inane problem that you can’t even pinpoint.

Everything today had been great, a respite from Lady Luck’s usual agenda of kicking you in the ass. Hell, even your usual meetup with Stolas had gone smoother than normal.

Stolas.

The thought makes you pause. He was happy, when he arrived through his portal. He declined any need for your usual, as he put it, “Listening to me dragging on about personal affairs”; apparently him and his wife had been unusually amicable recently, as well as his daughter spending more time with him instead of locking herself away in her room.

So you relented, moving on to watching poor-quality films that the two of you could mock to your hearts content. The night had gone on in a pleasant way, idle conversation filling the lull of poorly scripted scenes and shoddy practical effects on the TV. His daughter learning how to open portals of her own, a certain imp and the, no doubt, promiscuous implications involved, and even a story about a hotel promising redemption for the damned.

A fun and comfy night, the best you’ve had in a long time.

So why did it leave you awake now?

Maybe it was fear? Stolas certainly seemed to be in a better spot, now. A relationship that was slowly mended with your advice, lessened stress from your semi-nightly meetings. The way things seemed to be going, he might not need to visit you anymore. What was the point in visiting a MORTAL when you were a prince of hell, after all?

...man, it was going to suck when you lost your best friend.

Wow, calling Stolas, a prince of hell, that you’ve known for a year, your best friend. Man, isn’t that just pathe-

‘ _Hoot. Hoot’_

The sound of your phone going off snaps you out of your self-depressing spiel. It’s lit up on your nightstand, the bright, luminescent numbers reading ‘12:22 AM’ as you fumble with unlocking your phone. Stolas had messaged you, going by the notification sound, a recording of him hooting after you had beaten him in a bet some weeks ago.

But to message you this late, clearly something was wrong. You doubted a prince would be awake this late for no reason, especially one important as h-

Oh.

_That’s a picture of his dick_

You ignore the buzz of your phone as more notification sounds go off, no doubt Stolas attempting to explain why he sent you something so degenerate. It looks ‘normal’, rather than some weird shape with strange additions onto it; the length is something you’d expect from someone as tall as him, though the girth is greater than what Stolas’ frame would imply, and beneath it are some very impressive ‘seed sacks’.

Part of you wonders how far gone you are to actually rate a bird-demon’s dick.

<[Anon, that wasn’t for you!]

<[It was meant for Blitzy, I had no intention of sending you this]

<[I apologize, you shouldn’t have been subjected to seeing me like this]

There’s the image of Stolas’ embarrassed, face red as he tries his hardest to backpedal an explanation out of this, and you almost laugh. A year, and he still manages to catch you off-guard with how much of a dork he can be.

>[Stolas, it’s fine]

>[Nice cock, by the way]  
  
<[I, what?]  
  
>[Yeah, got a nice length to it as well as girth. I mean, with how tall you are it’s no surprise you’ve got length down there, though the Girth is a surprise with how skinny you are. No curving to either side, so it doesn’t look even weird, plus you’ve got a nice set of balls down th]

Oh. Shit. You did not mean to actually write any of that out to send. You are actually a fucking dumbass, holy shit what is wrong with you.

<[Anonymous]

Aaaaaand you’re fucked.

<[Is everything okay?]

>[Yeah, I’m fine]

>[Just a nice dick]

Just stop talking. It’d be less painful.

<[I see]  
<[You’re certainly the first person to ever compliment it, so thank you]

<[Blitzy usually responds with anger and nasty responses]

>[Why do you keep sending them to him, then?]

You only realize what you’re doing after you hit send. Opening a damn heart-to-heart with Stolas over text, past midnight, over a dick pic. There truly is no way for you to go lower, is there?

‘ _Hoot. Hoot’_

<[I… lie to myself about his disinterest in me, I suppose]

<[Much easier than admitting to myself that he only really puts up with me for my Grimoire]

<[That the only reason anyone deals with me is because of status]

>[I put up with you because you’re my friend and I care about you, Stolas]

>[If it, you know, counts for anything]

You flop back onto your bed, phone dropped onto your chest as you wait for his response. Too late to play it off as a joke, with your heart on your sleeve like that. Your movie poster looks at you with what you can guess is ‘silent disappointment’, and you look back at your phone to avoid the judgmental image.

<[Thank you, Anon]

<[It counts more than you would understand]

Out comes a breath you didn’t realise you had taken, a weight slipping off as you read his text. He was happy, to hear those words. From you, when he had numerous others in his life, with stronger standing and connections with him.

There’s a small smile as you reread those words. You really were worried over nothing, earlier. Pointless fear despite the evidence. You really needed to stop doubting this owl-

‘ _Hoot. Hoot’_

<[Anon, I do believe that, there’s an appropriate response to receiving a picture like that]

<[And it is to, send one back]

….

>[Good night, Stolas]

Damn horny owl.

**Author's Note:**

> You ever just write absolute trash, yet you can't stop creating the train wreck that is your word vomit?


End file.
